Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Reading The End of Your Life Book Club by Will
Schwalbe and wham, I am hit. I have this aha moment that leaves me speechless, and
all I can do is nod my head in agreement.

Schwalbe tells the story of Bob. One of those close family
friends that was always welcome in the house and always brought something
different to the conversation. Well-read and well-traveled, he was easily the
smartest person in the room; although, people around him would feel his equal.
His curiosity knew no bounds.

At the age of 81, Bob suffered a massive stroke and
was suddenly gone. The Schwalbe family never recovered and still brings him up
in conversation. What do you think Bob would think of this book? How do you
think Bob would react to this event?

Here comes my aha moment, “He [Bob] remains for my
family the perfect model of how you can be gone but ever present in the lives
of people who loved you, in the same way that your favorite books stay with you
for your entire life, no matter how long it’s been since you turned the last
page.”

I closed the book. I closed my eyes. In my mind I
picture all those I lost from the Smith family sitting on a shelf together like
different colored and sized books. Their stories all bundled up in their bodies
waiting for me to take one down for story time, I cried.

My favorite book of all time is Where the Wild
Things Are by Maurice Sendak. When I was little, I would beeline for it in the
library. I can even remember my mother saying no to the book and trying to
place another one in my hands.

What my mother did not understand, nor I able to
explain, was why “Where the Wild Things Are” was so important. The wild things
were my uncles, aunts and grandparents on my father’s side. I was Max and I was
afraid of the Smiths.

The Smiths were hairy or not, my grandfather being a
shiny cue ball, and they all lived together in the same house two to a room. I
thought them all loud and lumpy. Just like the “wild things,” they loomed in
the old house that was equally dark and scary.

We buried the last of the wild Smiths yesterday. I
was never able to tame them. Only age slowed them down, but I will forever hold
their stories close to my heart like my favorite books.